Questions for the Universe
by Casandra
Summary: A series of questions that have been floating around in the ether of Seattle. Callie and Arizona find the answers together.


**Title: **Questions for the Universe (1/?)

**Author: **Casandra

**Email: ****  
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**Pairing/Fandom: **Callie/Arizona (Grey's Anatomy)

**Rating: **PG-13, nothing to send the kids to bed in fear of

**Disclaimer: **I wonder if they're for sale? Cause I don't own any of the characters, but if Shonda is auctioning off Callie and Arizona, I'd certainly pay top dollar. Top dollar not being much mind you, since I'm generally broker than broke. And I'm not even making any dinero off of this little ficlet either. Bummer.

**Summary: **A series of questions that have been floating around in the ether of Seattle. In ficlet form.

**Spoilers: **Anything from mid Season 5 is fair game. You've been warned! *cue ominous music*

**Author's Note: **So I'm going to give ya'll an out right away. I haven't written any fic for probably a good two years, and even that was more a drabble if anything. I just haven't had the writing bug for fandom. But here goes nothing anyway. I got the plot bunny in my head, along with some frustration of hanging threads, and this is what materialized. Also, I tend to write in first person point of view, so I hope things aren't too hard to follow.

The feel of her gentle even breaths against the hollow where my shoulder and neck meets has lulled me. Into that wonderful euphoric in between of a deep restful sleep, and the awareness of blissfully aching insomnia after a night spent making love. After hours spent lost in the touch and sensation of her exquisite body pressed tightly against mine, I'm ridiculously content to just lay here and hold her exhausted form and let my mind wander over the last few hours.

We're in love.

As much as I let the thought roll around like a loose marble in my brain, I still can't quite bring myself to wipe the dopey smile from my face, even in my exhaustion. I can't even seem to be annoyed with myself for it. She's the happy one, the one who is always the light in the tunnel, the breath of fresh air on the smoggiest of days. And here I lay with the stupidest smile gracing my lips.

Huh.

The things this woman does to me. I've become one of _those_ people. The ones Mark and I make fun of in the hospital cafeteria as we sit and munch on our overpriced and underwhelming lunch. All holding hands and adoring gazes and dopey smiles.

And with that thought, I can feel my grin become even wider. I don't mind, not even a little bit. Because Arizona can have that power over me. Because she loves me.

Or maybe it's because I love her.

I love her.

Love is almost a foreign word in my personal dictionary. I thought I knew what it meant, what it stood for. And I was proven just how wrong I was, time and time again. Maybe I just misunderstood, had become too cynical. I thought I had learned with George, because of George, what it meant to be in love, to share your life with someone.

It wasn't until Arizona came skating into my world, taking the notion of what love was and flipping it up on its ass that I really got it. It's not about giving and giving, or hoping and praying for just a little something back. It's not changing who you are and what you believe and stand for to please someone else. It's the sum of the parts, between you and your lover. The whole is truly greater than the halves separated. I didn't understand that until her, until she believed in me, supported me, trusted me.

God rest his soul, but George, for all his wonderful charm, made me feel pathetic. Badass ortho rockstar Calliope Torres felt very much like the kid plastered against the wall at the high school dance, just hoping for a glance from her boyfriend who was stuck permanently by the punch bowl with all his buddies.

Not Arizona. No. She left the punchbowl, drug me off to the girl's bathroom and jumped my bones. I suppress a giggle trying to rise up from the recesses of my throat at the memory. I'm embarrassed to admit that my girlfriend's huge set of brass was an immediate turn on. And ego booster. Somehow, without even speaking to me, she knew exactly what I needed. She has an uncanny knack for knowing exactly the appropriate approach to life's problems, an innate sense of what to say at precisely the right moment.

"I can hear you thinking." Arizona's voice, scratchy from a combination of sleep and the emotional upheaval of the last 36 hours tickles my ears, pulling me from my uncharacteristically complex thoughts.

I move my arm up from it's position around her bare waist to sift my fingers through tangled honey locks. "I hope they weren't too loud then, I do have a roommate you know."

The puff of air she all but snorts out at my lame attempt at a joke ghosts against my already over sensitized skin, reminding me once again of the hours spent in each other's arms tonight. "If that's all she heard tonight, then I think we come out of it looking pretty rosy."

"You have no idea what I was thinking about then." I make a half assed attempt at a wink, leaning down to press a gentle kiss into the mop of mussed blonde curls.

"Well you want to share?" She lifts her head up from it's comfortable resting place against my chest to pierce me with a curious gaze.

I can't resist the temptation of her slightly puckered lips, still slightly swollen from our night of lovemaking. She sighs into our kiss, the exhale tickling the back of my throat in the most delicious of ways. I pull back reluctantly, far too exhausted to go down that road one more time tonight but unwilling to not tease the both of us just a bit. "I talked to my dad today. Before you came home."

The word 'home' slides off my tongue naturally. We don't officially co-habitate, but for all intents and purposes, Arizona does live here. She has more drawers filled to the brim in my dresser than I do at this point. She knows her way around the espresso machine better than either Cristina or I do. And I can't remember the last time we've slept anywhere but curled up against one another in my gloriously large and cozy bed. "He wished you a happy birthday."

I feel her startle a bit in my arms. I don't think she quite gets yet how ok my relationship with my father is now. I don't blame her though, I didn't even really get it until that phone call tonight. We've gone back to our weekly ritual of catching up with one another, that much she knows. It was an awkward few weeks of stilted conversations and dancing around the pink elephant over the cell line, but tonight made me realize just how far my father has come in his acceptance of my relationship. And how much that acceptance has to do with Arizona.

"How did he know it was my birthday?"

I smile gently down at the perplexed look furrowing her forehead. "He asked how you were doing, I didn't exactly give him the Cliff's Notes version."

"Oh."

The smile slips from my face a bit. "Was that not ok?"

The worrisome look has eased a bit, but there's still something there in her eyes that I can't quite decipher. "No! No, I want you guys to talk, even if it is about me."

I chuckle a bit at that. She really doesn't get how big a part of my life she is. "Baby, I don't think I get through a conversation. With like anyone, without you coming up somehow." I run a finger down the smooth plane of her cheek.

"Really?" I could spend fifty years watching the sparkle come back into those gorgeous cerulean eyes of hers, and it still wouldn't satisfy my desire.

"Really." I'm saddened that she doesn't understand how all in I am. My heart felt like it was splitting down it's center when she ripped into me about my absence last night. She needed me and I was stuck in some surgery that any number of the residents could have handled with Hunt. I'm always taking and taking, and apparently not giving anything back. Hindsight was 20/20 last night, I was appalled at just how right and justified she was in her disappointment. I think the surprise party was a really sad attempt at overcompensation that came back to bite me in the ass.

"So what did you guys talk about?" I love that cheeky little smile, the one that only pops up when she's pleased with her own self admitted awesomeness. On anyone else it would drive me to murderous thoughts, but on Arizona? It just makes me love her more. She doesn't have a conceited bone in her body.

"You're the reason that we're ok, aren't you?"

Her eyes widen, the color of a storm tossed sea easily visible in the moonlight streaming in from the window. "What?"

I shake my head. I knew something must have happened to turn my father around on such a 180. I've long suspected Arizona had done something, I just wasn't sure what it was. That night out in the courtyard of the hospital, my father spoke of Arizona as though he knew her. And at the time he had only met her, very very briefly, once. Months ago. My father is a very shrewd businessman. But his memory is like a cheese grate. I don't think he remembered even one of the men I had dated all through college and med school. He probably didn't even remember George's name, just the traitorous face that belonged to the man that cheated on his baby girl.

So for my father to remember Arizona's name, let alone call her by it? That certainly piqued my curiosity. It wasn't until tonight when we were on the phone that I finally figured out the extent of what she had done for my relationship with him.

"_Mija, I know you're nervous. But trust me, nothing you do, or don't do, is going to make a difference to her."_

"_What?"_

"_Calliope, that girl is yours, no matter what you do for her birthday."_

"_You think?"_

"_I know."_

How could he possibly know? Unless of course………

"You told him you loved me, didn't you?" I barely whisper, the reverence of the question not allowing my voice to project past the infinitesimal space between us.

Her entire body has stiffens in my embrace. "What?"

I run a gentle hand up her naked back, trying to soothe away the sudden tension. "I figured you had probably talked to him. He's a stubborn man, he wouldn't have just changed his mind out of the blue. Not with the way I left things with him." I smile at the image of my brave and beautiful girlfriend going toe to toe with my sometimes bully-like father. A battle for the ages no doubt. "After tonight, it's really the only thing that makes sense to me. It is what you told him, isn't it?"

Her body relaxes a bit, her gaze becoming less worried, but still hesitant. "Among other things. But yeah, I told him that I loved his daughter." A genuine smile passes her lips, the twinkle in those heavenly eyes sparkling once again. "That I love you."

I can't resist the need to kiss her, hair all mussed from sleep and _other_ activities, eyes lit ablaze with desire and adoration. And love. For me. It's a lazy kiss, full of the simmering passion that always seems to exist between us. But also tender, the sheer enormity of those three simple words creating an infinite gentleness in the connection between our lips.

I pull back, amazed at the transformation in myself, in my life, simply from the presence of this incredible woman. I've never been sentimental, it's probably why I'm in Ortho, among other reasons. Bones are bones, they break and I set them. There's very little emotion involved. I care about my patients, sometimes more than I should. But I'm not the girly girl all strung out on love songs and romance.

And yet apparently I am.

Because Arizona has flipped everything I've ever despised about the sentiment, and made me realize that it's not schmaltzy or cheesy. It's what love really is about.

"Thank you."

Her nose wrinkles playfully. "For what?"

"For being the only person to ever win over my father. And baby, trust me, you had a hell of a handicap." I smirk, still overwhelmed by how well things have turned out on that front. My father giving me advice on my girlfriend. Not sure it gets any more surreal than that.

"I do have a way with the Torres clan, don't I?" Boy does she.

"Am I ever going to get a full recap of that conversation?" Because I sure would love to know what else she said to him that made him cave so fast. He wasn't just reluctantly giving us his blessing, he was practically marrying me off to Arizona. Must have been a hell of a sales pitch.

"Someday." She gives me a quick peck on the lips before repositioning herself back down to lay her head against my chest, snuggling in for the few remaining hours of sleep we can catch before our alarm goes off. If I have my way, 'someday' will be sooner rather than later.


End file.
